Curling her fingers around his wrist one last time, she paused. He was staring at her, of course. Staring with those same wide eyes, that same mouth pressed in a thin line, but it was different somehow, emptier. There was no recognition when he looked at her. No laughter peeling from the side of his mouth, or the look he gave, one eyebrow raised, when he knew he was about to impress her.

There was nothing. He didn't remember.

She supposed she knew that, rationally. She'd known it from the moment they pressed that button together, but... It was harder than she thought, to look at someone you loved and have them look at you like a stranger.

She'd lived through her mother. She'd continued marching even when Danny had gone, but this... this was so much harder than anything she'd ever known. This was a burning.

She wanted to shake him. Grab him by the arms and scream at him, demand that he stop playing games, stop kidding, just... look at her like he used to.

It wouldn't make any difference.

She let go of his hand. He gave her a Look - the kind strangers give people who skip queues - and pressed his fingertips against the strings of his guitar, the faint hint of a smile dancing across his mouth.

"I think it's called... Clara."

He said her name. He said her name and yet he looked right through her. Didn't have a clue who she was, standing right before him. It was to be expected. She'd known it was going to happen, but...
Well, she thought, eyes flitting across his face. There's nothing worse than feeling like a ghost.

She's been running for years now. Well, not exactly years. Not exactly anything. It occurs to her how difficult it is to keep track of time when none of it is linear anymore. It could be a few days, or a few months. She doesn't know. She doesn't care. Living between one heartbeat and the last does that to people.

Me tags along for a time. She doesn't seem to have much else to do at first, but they get separated on a foreign moon and Clara returns to her own TARDIS to find a scribbled note bidding her farewell afterwards. She's supposed to take it as a hint, to return to Gallifrey, to stop time fracturing. That's the responsible thing, the right thing.

But being right is overrated. And she has... some things she wants to do first.

She goes back to see Danny. She doesn't actually see him, exactly. Time is fracturing already, and being reckless is what got her killed in the first place. So she is cautious. Simply stares from afar as he does the dishes, tidies the house, opens the windows. His smile is just as warm as she remembers it, just as gentle. She watches as laughter peels from the side of his mouth, as he pets the neighbourhood cat on his walk home from the shops. He's wearing his purple shirt. Her favourite.

She doesn't stay long. She isn't sure how, but she can feel it... time, splintering all around her. Like shattering glass. She can't stay. Not if she's going to see him one last time.

She lands in the middle of the night. He is stood outside that faithful TARDIS of his, a silhouette against a falling sun. She doesn't see his face. Just the back of that velvet jacket, how his arms fall behind his back. How he shakes.

Three steps closer. It's all she can afford. A low sound seeps through the air, and for a moment, she can't place it. But it's unmistakable.
The Doctor is crying.

He's speaking, too, though it's muffled. For a moment, she thinks it must be because he knows she's here, but... No. No, he thinks he's alone. Then why...

"Clara..."

It comes out like a gargle, a choked out sound. Guttural.

"Clara, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't find you, I... I can't remember."

Without thinking, she took another step toward him, arm outstretched.

"I'm so sorry, I... I tried. I have traversed whole planets, dug through galaxy after galaxy, and I can't remember, can't find...anything. Or anyone." He looked up, head tilted toward the stars. "Clara. My Clara, I am so, so sorry to have failed you..." He trailed off, lungs gasping for air as his hands wiped furiously at his eyes.

Two more steps. Close enough to touch now. She could feel the heat of him against her palm as it hovered a few inches from his shoulder.

"You're gone. I tried... I tried to fix it, but you're just... gone." Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he sniffled. "There's nothing I can do about that. Clara, I'm... I'm so old now, so tired. I know what it's like to lose things more than anyone, but, here... This is different. I don't even get to remember it. Not really. It's all... just a story now. And not even one with a happy ending."

She wasn't sure what made her do it. She could feel the entirety of time and space fighting against it, telling her she had to leave, but... But he was crying. Her Doctor was crying, and she couldn't simply stand by and watch.

"Let's give it one, then," she whispered, grabbing at his shoulder, turning him to face her.

And hovering between one heartbeat and her very, very last, Clara Oswald took the Doctor's face in her hands, pressing her cold mouth against his for the first and last time, and kissed him until her own knees began to shake, until the entirety of time began to tremble and grow dark, reality curling in at the edges like old parchment. It was too short a time, too faint a touch. She grappled for more, trying to convince herself just this once that it was okay to be selfish, to just... have what she wanted, no consequences.

But Clara Oswald was rarely selfish, and Time Lords have a way of finding what they want, so as she felt the burn of his lips against hers, the universe began to put her mistake to rights.

She woke up in that same street, face a pale orange as the streetlights hit her. Alone, yes, she faced the Raven - but with the tingle of that last kiss still fresh on her lips, and the defiant beginnings of a laugh bubbling in her throat.